


Note

by lindirisms



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Exposition, Letters, M/M, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindirisms/pseuds/lindirisms
Summary: Lindir tries to encapsulate the nature of his feelings for Lord Elrond in a short letter, but he cannot quite find the right words.





	Note

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onlyasmallfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyasmallfish/gifts).



> This is a small thing for LittleSparklePrince (elenathen on tumblr) because it's been a year since we both made our blogs! It's based on an already thoroughly established set of verses and headcanons, so I'm very sorry if it doesn't make all that much sense.

_My Lord Elrond,_

_Though I know there is no longer any need for letters and notes now that we may finally speak face to face, I find that there is still no better way to articulate what I cannot find the words to say out loud. Besides, it will be like old times, to write to you of the problems that sit deep within my heart. I have never put my thoughts on the matter in order even in my own head, much less in a way coherent enough for someone other than myself to understand._

_It’s quite unfortunate, really, but I beg that you do not worry; I can only pray that you do not wish to send me away once it has been said. There is no other way I can think to put it than as simply as it can be: I love you. I expect no reciprocation, nor any even acknowledgement of this, I simply wish you to know, for it feels as though withholding such a truth any longer might kill me._

_To hold such feeling for someone I had only ever known through writing was ever so odd -- I did not know the sound of your voice, nor had I seen your face, save for the paintings that line the halls of King Thranduil. They are surely beautiful, but they hardly compare to the true magnificence of their subject. The way your eyes sparkle when you laugh makes me short of breath, and the simple glinting of your hair in the sunlight weakens the beating of my heart in my chest. It was not even a feeling that I could even begin to think of the words for until we spoke in person, and then I was certain of it. I had hoped that it might pass as soon as it came, but as I wait, it only becomes stronger, more intense with time._

_Perhaps one might even describe it as tragic. I have loved before, but nothing I have ever experienced comes even close to this feeling. I think I’ve found the lifelong love that Elves all speak of and dream of, it is only somber for me in that my affection shall not evolve into one of the epic love stories of our ancestors, but instead remain one-sided. It matters not; any story that you are in would be worthy of legend, and I am thrilled to be even a footnote in such a tale._

_Always yours,_

_Lindir._

 

No. This won’t do.

Lindir allows his quill to fall from his hand, ink puddling around the nib and seeping into the parchment in front of him. Elrond has heard quite enough of his problems, and he knows that the Lord will feel personally responsible for fixing this one, even though there is nothing anyone can do to fix it, as far as Lindir is aware. Besides, the letter itself isn’t nearly eloquent enough to give to Elrond. Lindir cannot find it in him to be poetic, not when he is feeling so tightly wound. He ought not ruin the friendship he has with Lord Elrond; it is one of the most precious things Lindir has. Even though he doubts Elrond would show any outright unkindness to him - or anyone else - for such a thing, he’d rather not force the awkwardness between them.

He sighs deeply, pulling the parchment from the desk and folding it imprecisely into quarters with little care for the smudging of ink he is causing. This is the second time Lindir has written such a letter and failed to send it. The first was pages and pages long, written a thousand years after he began exchanging friendly letters with the Lord, and while back then they had yet to meet in person, Lindir knew his feelings for Elrond were strong. His hesitation in that situation had been that it would simply have been improper to tell someone he had never met that he loved them, and would likely scare Elrond away from desiring to continue the friendship they had developed through their writings. This time, the same things, are, of course, at risk, but there are yet more complications: Elrond has been married very happily for sixteen years, and Lindir has no place in causing any disruptions.

Simply putting his feelings onto paper has been relief enough for now, he thinks as he pushes away from the desk, rising with a deep breath inwards. Things ought to remain how they are. It’s perfect, really, being Elrond’s friend, and now that he’s finally come to live in Imladris from his old home in Eryn Galen, he would be a fool to ruin it. He tucks the note under his pillow. He’ll decide what to do with it later. Perhaps he will burn it in his shame; or tuck it away and keep it as he did with his first letter all those years ago, and has he has done with every letter he has since received from Elrond.

For now, he smooths out his hair, neatens the front of his robes, and adjusts the collar. He ought to attend the evening meal. Being by himself allows him too much space to think and overthink. He checks himself once in the mirror. Keeping this to himself is for the best. Lindir has given up any hope of ever pushing his feelings away, but there's nothing good that can possibly come of revealing them.

Besides, he is content; there are worse things in the world than being alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't nearly as good as I imagined it in my head lol.


End file.
